Brothers Blakk
by The Dystopian Utahraptor
Summary: A collection of drabbles based around the [mis]adventures of the sons of Thaddius Blakk, a mechanical engineering genius and his Ghoulshifting younger brother. A companion piece in the Babylon Thrum continuity, alongside 'Legacies Abroad'. Rated for some content, dealing mostly in possession and violence/torture.
1. Introductions

Loud whooping echoed through the cavernous corridors of the Citadel, causing Marius to look up from skimming through the conceptual plans scattered pellmell across the desk in the office. The door to the side of the room slid open, Xerxes bursting in ... and stopping dead. There was a light in those dark eyes; the elder was certainly excited about something and the print he held in his hands more than likely had something to do about it.

"_Marius_! I was unaware you were back." Xerxes straightened himself up a bit. Just a bit; he still had that twitch about him. It was almost contagious. "I certainly hope you haven't been waiting long."

Marius crossed his arms over his chest, leaned on the edge of the desk behind him. "I rolled in about ... a half hour ago, so nein. Not long." Red-ringed green eyes fell on the paper in his elder brother's grip. "Excited, are ve? Not often I see you, of all people, carting around legitimate paper..."

"Oh! Oh yes, this is _wonderful_!" The younger tensed reflexively as the elder made his move, sweeping his little brother into the embrace of one arm, holding the paper up so he could see it as well. "Marketing finally came up with a logo design I approve of."

Marius blinked, scanning the simple, yet sharp, red logo on black background. "...It looks like un arrow..."

Xerxes scoffed playfully a bit at the observation. "Of _course_ it does! Arrows only go one way; they move forward! I have yet to see one go in reverse!" There was a pause here. "Unless you are using the bow completely wrong, in which case you are an abomination of physics."

"Und anatomy, apparently. Much better zan ze old logo, I agree."

Once more, the playing scoff as Xerxes let go of his brother and began to circle the desk. "Father thought too much in the past, trophy or not. His choice of logo only proves that much, as it wasn't his to begin with. This one, however." He waved the print again for emphasis. "_This_ one proves upward of three things. We are innovative! We keep moving forward! And, above all, we maintain speed in our endeavors!"

"Speed ist gute."

"'Speed is good', yes! Empires are maintained not through how big they are, but how easy it is to get from Point A to Point B! You cannot keep a hold on a large empire if it takes you longer than three hours to get from one end to the other, now can you. At least, not in this day and age..." The print was settled in a drawer for safe-keeping, locked tight. "Now, if only we could decide on a proper slogan, I could get this place moving properly."

Marius' lips twitched upward in one corner, a seeping of red into his eyes before it fell back to its usual limits. "'Keep Moving Forvard' a bit too cliche for you?"

He received a momentary narrowing of eyes from his elder brother. "Far too cliche. Needs to pop more." Another pause as his brow furrowed in a mixture of thought and mild frustration. "And, naturally, needs to be less contradictory than 'Bringing you tomorrow's yesterday today'. What were they even thinking, if they thought that was actually passable!"

"You mean marketing actually has to t'ink?" There was the beginnings of a small smirk across the younger's face, that creeping red starting again into the green. "Be careful; zey might burn zemselves out before zey even begin."

"This is true. They aren't the brightest bunch, admittedly." Xerxes sighed. "I suppose I will cross that bridge when I come to it." Quirk of that mischievous smile started to pull at his lips. "At least we're halfway to making this place act at its full potential again."

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><p><span><strong>AN****: **Sorry it ends abruptly here in the intro; I figured I would use this particular bit to soften the blow of the next drabble. Figured that the intro would best better describe the dynamic between these two buttheads before we dive right in to beating the living snot out of them.

**Disclaimer:** _Slugterra and all affiliated locations, people, and events are owned by Nerd Corps Entertainment. The Brothers and all affiliated with them are mine._


	2. Personal Demons - Angst Challenge

**A/N****: **As a note, this particular drabble was done for the 'BONUS ANGST' round on an OC Week Challenge. It features such themes as **violence and torture**, **possession**, and **immolation**. Even in small amounts. Proceed with caution if you feel any sort of unease to any of these themes.

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><p>What was that, that rhythmic thumping noise? Was that his heartbeat, playing in one ear and echoing into the other?<p>

No, that didn't sound right. Even with his head throbbing in excruciating pain, Xerxes still managed to understand some of the rules of reality. So what was that? Why was it happening? And why did his head hurt so badly?

Blue eyes opened, slowly. It hurt his head to allow even the dimmest of light in the backroom on one of the factory floors through, blinking in apprehension to opening them. He knew he had to, however, or else Marius would have the upper hand. No. That thing was not his little brother; the Ghoul was over with being manipulated into submission to allow the younger Blakk dominance. That _thing_ was no longer Marius Blakk, merely using his body for its shell, its avatar of destruction.

Now he remembered properly why it was he wasn't hearing things correctly, why he tasted copper at the back of his throat, why everything ached and it hurt to breathe. Faint light glistening off the far wall showed him why, a streak of browning red from the door-frame to where he had come to a rest. He inhaled, coughed violently in response, felt something shift in his chest. Coughing gave way to a low groaning whimper, something caught in his throat. He hocked it up and spit it, a bloody chunk of mucus. He was aware that it was impolite under certain circumstances, he was also aware that this was not one of those circumstances. His blood was already on the walls and floor, courtesy was gone out the window when that steel heel had met with his chest.

He moved, slowly. A fire shot up from his chest, causing another fit of wet coughing from him. It almost felt like he was tearing his lungs apart with each inhale, leaving him gasping. He was sure, with the aforementioned kick to his chest, that ribs were at least fractured, if not broken. He turned, braced himself up with one arm, and tried to prop himself up to sit. Every movement shot another string of pain, but with slow methodical shifts, he did eventually manage a position to see the door.

His vision was swimming, but even through the blur and lethargy of creeping head trauma, he could see it. A stocky silhouette was steadily making its way across the room, blocking the light from the factory beyond, a distinct blur of pulsing red glow following the movement of it. He heard the rhythm of the steps, recognized it as that echoing thump he had heard as he came to. The Ghoul knew it was the elder Blakk twisting Marius in the background, keeping the human in control and the beast back. It had come for him now that Marius couldn't fight back against it.

Gaze rose unsteadily to make contact with its red eyes, the defiance against it lessened considerably due to the ambient agony Xerxes suffered even now. He was a big man, as all Blakks inherently were. But even he would admit that he was human, and his little brother's devilish parasite had only worked to solidify that knowledge when it had slammed his ebon-maned head into the door-frame of the back storage room. His head was still spinning from that; if he got out of this, he would certainly need that checked. Funny how he was still able to think coherently, but on some level, he understood that this was a trauma response. If he wasn't suffering the effects of a potential minor concussion, he would have been thinking tactically, and he knew that.

It came to a rest in front of him, gloved hands snatching the lapels of his coat and hauling him off the floor. This close, he could smell the sulfur wafting off the creature wearing his brother's face, strong even above the prominent metal of his own blood. The jerk upward was painful, caused him to cry out against it and whimper in gasps. Blue met red easily enough, a quick dizzying search in the glowing orbs before him showed no sign of the telltale green. Marius was gone.

"How does it feel to finally be at the receiving end, _Big Brother_." it asked, the trademark dual-toned echo on its voice as it practically spit out his title at him.

Booted feet struggled to find purchase on a floor of slick concrete, failed and surrendered for the time being, falling instead against the broader form of his assailant for some semblance of support. "Y-you're not my little b-brother. You're not M-marius. Ssstop acting like you are." The words came out considerably more stuttered and slurred than he wanted, but he almost expected it to happen. Blunt force trauma tended to do that to people.

It snorted at him, at his blatant defiance, the eyes flashing brighter for a second, a flare through the pulsing veins across its face. "Marius no longer wishes to speak with you. He finds your arrogance and selfishness a nuisance and beneath his want to communicate."

At first, the words stung, an audial whip to rend his bruising flesh. However, the salve came shortly after when he realized something. "I w-want to talk to Marius. Let him say it."

It was an attempt on Xerxes' part to give his little brother the upper hand. The Ghoul may have managed its way to the front, but it did not think with the same linearity as his brother. All he needed to do was get it to relinquish its control on the younger Blakk. He caught the sneer on the beast's face, warped by the needle-like red-tipped teeth set in the jaws. He hoped that he would get just a glimpse of those familiar jade green eyes.

He almost got it. Almost. The Ghoul was left to think on it for about a half minute, giving the elder all the time he needed to begin to bunch himself up, against the pain of his broken sternum. Originally, he wanted to strike out at it, use what he had of physical and mental comprehension to take the beast down. Maybe knock it out, if that would bring back the human mind that was his brother. Something, anything. Tactics changed when he caught a splotch of orange somewhere against the wall nearest the door. His tensing changed, building in a different part of his body.

The Ghoul was not fooled by his attempt to gain dominance. Somehow, he expected this. "I see what you're doing, you sneaky slithering bastard." it hissed, baring those needle teeth at him. "All you Blakks are the same, underhanded gangsters trying to justify yourself beneath an industrial mask. Building on your insatiable ego and appetites to control. You're no different from your father before you."

The grip on his lapels tightened, pulling the collar tight. It made it harder to breathe. "At l-least I can admit it." he replied, trying to get a breath. He was losing consciousness, had to fight to stay awake. At least the stuttering was toning down, the slur beginning to smooth out, even if it still sounded lethargic. "You can't even admit that you're no more than a useless parasite, dependent on that which you hate to survive..."

It was angry now, the glow in its eyes and veins flaring brightly and holding. "How _dare_ you insinuate that I am incapable of being independent!"

"_Then leave_!" The roar that flew from the elder's mouth surprised even him, that he could get a noise out louder than a strained cough. It caused a small bit of confusion out of the Ghoul as well, who jerked its head back. "If you're so damned independent, then leave and give me Marius back!"

It was boiling with a controlled anger now, the way its face twisted. He was pulled up enough to gain some small traction on the floor, subconsciously using to give himself some stability; he was more concentrated on how close those teeth were to his face, worried that the beast may take an eye with the closing proximity, than he was about keeping on his feet. If the thought had crossed its mind, it was gone in the next moment, concentrating its efforts instead to throw the elder back against the wall, the distorted grin on its face widening at his gasp of renewed pain, the wheezing whimper punctuated once he had been rendered paralyzed and slid down the wall with that steel heel to his chest. It ground into it, a distinct crackling grind of bone and cartilage being twisted, the grin pulling further than any human limit at the continued display of agony from the elder, clawing and trying to push back futilely.

Finally, it stopped, though continued to hold him in place, that blurring streak of glowing red. An echoed bang and shouting voices from far off, as though on another plane of existence. The Ghoul heard it too; it looked over its shoulder toward the door and tried to leave the sputtering engineer against the wall, to flee. The pent energy Xerxes had held on to all this time had been regained in the thought that this masquerading monstrosity would get away now, transferred into wrapping one arm around its lower leg as it attempted to retreat. It whirled around at the hindrance and, upon seeing what held it back, let off a roar somewhere between a human shriek and the sound of metal rails being torn in two, baring its teeth in full at him in pure unrestrained rage. It pulled the leg free with little resistance and went for him, claws shredding through the leather of the gloves on its hand in full display.

A small churring squeak sounded from just under his left arm, a signal that it was ready. He mustered the last of the energy he could to pull free the left Twin from its shoulder holster, aiming the barrel and a peculiarly familiar Flaringo between the eyes of the Ghoul bearing down on him.

"See you in Hell, _Little Brother_."

The last bit came out a sarcastic spit, complete with a fine spray of blood what had accumulated across his lips from a preexisting head wound. The look on the beast's face twisted, the display lessening as its trajectory began to fall. There was a glimpse of green in those eyes; it was trying to manipulate a response from him by showing him Marius. The younger brother, of course, shared little of the sentiments of his devilish parasite, leveling red-ringed green gaze into his elder's blue.

"Pull it."

Consent given, the recoil on the Blaster slammed him back against the wall with a cry, Nepo immediately catching the younger aflame. There was an inhuman screech, the obnoxious smell of burning hair, and the blur of light from the climbing flames.

Shouting was closest now, the Blaster dropped, and the streaking vision of Neville with nothing short of a small security force in his wake bursting into the room and running for him. The world tilted, the cold concrete barely noticed as he collided with it, numb and limp, fading around the sides of his vision. He let it, succumbed to it, as the world went black with Neville's yells echoing further and further away.


	3. Likeness

At first, he doesn't know quite what he's looking at. It looks like a little girl, appearing as if from nowhere while he is on his way to the Citadel to check on his brother. But her aura, that which he can see with the aide of the Ghoul in him, looks red and angry. To be honest, it reminds him just a little like himself.

She keeps her distance from him for a while, leading him on an impromptu chase through brambles and down winding corridors, lazy as he hasn't kicked _Bucephalus_ into full gear to chase after her. He will admit his curiosity.

He doesn't recognize the cavern she has slowly drawn him to, but he sees more and more of that hauntingly unsettling aura everywhere he looks. It's mostly around children, the eldest ones no older than he is. They all look up at him as he enters. It is almost eerie the similarities he feels in them.

He hasn't noticed it until now, letting the old mech beneath him slow to a rolling stop as someone looks up at him. He sees it now, kinship in those pale grey eyes, ringed around the iris in seething wrathful red. He knows that ring all too well, and is sure that somewhere on their extremities, they suffer the labyrinth of pulsing red veins growing as time goes on. Like a terminal sickness, the Ghoul will slowly take over.

He has walked into a colony like himself, a small cavern isolated away and inhabited almost solely by Ghoulshifters.

He has never seen such a concentration of them. Mostly, they are children born of unfortunates who used to work for the Industries, when his father was still mining fervently for Dark Water. They are usually rare to find, even rarer to see more than two in a location, himself included. Dark Water always came with a price on those who were in constant contact with it.

The girl appears again nearby, raising a hand to point at him. "You're like us."

He can't deny it, his own eyes betray the dormant nature of the monster inside him, the one they all keep at bay. "…Vat ist zis place."

He is admittedly hesitant, expecting some strange horror story about segregation. It's not uncommon; Ghoulshifters are fairly new in terms of mutations, and unpredictably dangerous. It makes sense when such a number of them happen in one place that they would be separated.

"This is Deadweed."

He recognizes that name, the tragedy that befell some time before his birth. It makes sense now; these are the family of those who were thrust into that. Those exposed prominently to the devastating effects of Dark Water. His lips purse a moment at that, showing just a hint of expression. He sees those around him cringe a little.

He was trained to contain it. These people were not, and as such, are used to seeing more Ghoul than human when someone shows even the slightest flicker of emotion. He can only utter out an apology at that revelation.

"_Es tut mir leid_. But I haf business elsewhere." The throttle is pushed, _Bucephalus _urged into a trot. "Do not let it vin. You're stronger zan it is, you're human."

The cavern itself is depressing, even moreso when he hears the few dark chuckles tail after him through the corridors back to the main road. He'll have to come back here, he knows; this cluster is sorely inexperienced and will require a proper teacher.

In the back of his own head, echoing about as though someone is speaking in his skull, he can hear the multitonal rasp that is his own Ghoul. "_Yeah, they're all kind of fish in a pot at this rate. Just don't expect any seminars out of me_."

He cringes inwardly, throwing the throttle forward once he turns the old Warhorse onto the road proper. He doesn't acknowledge its presence, but he has heard it. This was a trick he had to learn himself, in his youth. It's a valuable tactic in that it keeps the separation between parasite and host.

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><p><span><strong>AN**: Brig sent me a prompt about what if the miners in Deadweed had children, and something depressing happened.


End file.
